Brother Tom at the Fish Market Window in Seattle — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Nothingness
Staring out the window
nothing comes into view,
fog drafts off the sound
It doesn’t matter
if nothing is seen,
gaze drafts afar
Even the usual seagulls
are overlooked,
even their calls
It is as if my senses
have ceased,
for the duration
Standing at the window
in my solitude,
fade into nothingness
Yet, still waiting
in my loneliness,
the vacuum to end.
— kenne
Bonsai Bose Art — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Loneliness is creeping in on my moments of solitude.
After a busy day, I have always enjoyed those moments of solitude,
an opportunity to relax and ponder existence. But with age,
solitude has become a prison of living day to day with weary pain.
I was a runner for years, then I became a jogger, now a walker
just trying to keep my balance. The change over time was slow enough,
allowing adjustments to the aging process. But in recent years,
the decline has begun to move at a hurried pace.
Strenght has disappeared, limbs have grown stiff, and every function
less accurate with every fiber of my being frail and overwrought with life.
So, here I am, imprisoned in the last stage of life, soon to become an empty ghost.
Still, I’m reminded, being old is a privilege.
— kenne
Morning Loneliness — Image by kenne
But by the time the sun
has shone its full glory
his loneliness changes
to something more.
like the tide it turns
to a life of anger
away from his morning loneliness.
Sonoran Monsoon — Image by kenne
Sonoran Monsoon
Earlier in the day
I was hiking in the sky
where it rained —
the top of the world is greener.
Now I stand
below and dry
flagstone at my feet —
rubbing my dry eyes.
Trying to summon tears
signaling the clouds above
for more than a few drops —
impossible to talk
about the loneliness.
— kenne
